These are the days my love
These are the days
It could be rain for the wash
It could be grain for the ground
It could be the snap of insect bodies
It could be objects found
It could be bits of ash, flying
It could be rising on the path before us
It could be one hand pocketed
It could be another
It could be a quiet dying
It could be a bend in the river, a bend in light
It could be flat rocks
It could be the orange sun of midnight
It could be a spoked wheel turning
It could be strange things afoot afar off coming
It could be a springing advance
It could be a long cold drink of water
It could be steering the air
It could be neither here nor there
These are the days my love
These are the days
It could be news about which we can do nothing
It could be zenith or Zeno or zero after the fact
It could be estimate
It could be days on either side
It could be days
It could be just days
It could be the music of wind chimes in the yard
It could be shared without demand
It could be without damage
It could be waiting for the harvest
It could be what storm fronts are bringing
It could be a murderous frost
It could be the buzzing of the flies
It could be mast
It could be for no reason
It could be wet ground
It could be fireweed and vetch
It could be roses among willows, iceburnt
It could be over water
It could be a braided stream
It could be bad lessons unlearnt
These are the days my love
These are the days
It could be walking
It could be shooting
It could be shouting
It could be slipping
It could be seize or cease or seas
It could be air for the waiting
It could be where a dog slipped his chain
It could be a wreck on its side
It could be a grassy spot to lie
It could be random cuttings
It could be weeds on gravel ground
It could be mire
It could be a bad master tending
It could be birdsong at morning
It could be built on stones of sand
It could be putting by
It could be breaking real slow
It could be getting here real soon
These are the days my love
And these are the days
It could be houses along a dusty road
It could be reaching the top of its banks
It could be lifted up, the offspring of us all
It could be running over
It could be hammers hammering, ringers, ringing
These are the days my love
These are the days
It could be children playing under their mothers’ eyes
And these are the days
It could be seeing or seen
It could be more for the asking
It could be
These are the days my love and these are the days
These are the days my love and these are the days
These are the days
One…
[Einstein On The Beach by Philip Glass & Robert Wilson — Knee 5 — Einstein; as appearing on Songs from the Trilogy]
This One & This One 